


Sat On A Wall

by ForevermoreNevermore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Angels, Loss of Grace, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForevermoreNevermore/pseuds/ForevermoreNevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where some fall like a star from the sky, Samandriel falls like a leaf from a tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sat On A Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, yes, this is author. I'm strangely, obscenely proud of this and I thank you for sharing the love of this sad, cute little angel with me. Thank you so much for reading it, I love you, and I hope you enjoy it.

Most angels have their grace taken out in one giant, blinding blast. It's an event, there are bells and screeches and people feel it. It's the tsunami in a desert and the angel in Hell. Samandriel was given no grand fanfare. No one even knew.

It leaked out of his forehead while Crowley's men got at him, puncturing and twisting the nails deeper into his vessel's skull, and later all the way into his own grace. It was a near invisible substance, but who could see it mixed with grime and blood. He felt it trickle down his nose, divvying itself into two trails and dashing into his eyes. Appropriate, he thought. And it was the last thing he thought for a good fistful of hours.

The next was that his brother's hand was familiar and warm on his face.

He knew Castiel, he knew his good and his bad and he knew that the good always won out in the end. Because that was where his heart lay. But the bigger things are, the harder they fall and Castiel's large heart was mid swan-dive and Samandriel couldn't hate him, not even with the sword in his gut, angled just so it missed the majority of his grace and his light sputtered, pain arching anew up his spine and flaring out his wings. For just one moment, he thought it was over, there was no way it couldn't be. He felt his grace wisp away then, practically half a hemisphere of his being evacuating the vessel. It was gone, he was leaving. But when he saw Naomi he knew that he could never be that lucky. 

"You're broken beyond repair." She uttered over his beaten, bruised, and paralyzed body. Naomi at least looked regretful when she checked him out, fingers gentle against his hairline and probing gently against the wounds. Always gentle, always careful, never misstepping. Samandriel was lulled into a false sense of security, attempting to scoop up his remaining grace so that it may recuperate and grow again. It was a small amount, but it glowed brightly. 

When he woke up in Purgatory, that little bit managed to glow brighter than all of the world and he learned it by a sharp slash to his back. It arched through his wings and burned into his spine. The thing went down quickly, glowing brightly for a moment before snuffing out. There were more though, endless hoards of forgotten monsters and dejected beings. Twisted and clear in the Purgatory gray. 

On a whim, with his half grace, Samandriel decided a show of strength was in order. He snapped, letting out a scream that rattled the very sky and snapping out wings that buffeted a vampire into a tree. They crackled and for a moment Samandriel the Angel felt whole again. Vigor filled the missing spots in his grace. Large, imposing, his true self with the head of a jackal and the body of the universe itself. His laugh was loud and glorious, and his voice rattled the core straight down to Hell and there he was, reaching and falling at the very same time that twenty creatures hit him along the back, forced him to the ground, and ripped his grace out like a spine. 

Feathers fizzled and crackled out of existence like individual nuclear bombs, Samandriel's scream snapped a tree, and the resulting light made the creatures implode.  The tail end of his grace was still intact, pulsing with pain and life. He tried to put it back in, but his arms couldn't quite reach back to the awkward position along his back. There was no putting water back into a container once it spilt on the counter and there was no putting Samandriel back together. Not with all the King's Horses and all the King's Men.

No one could put Samandriel together again. 


End file.
